For you Dad

My Dad's book

The last couple weeks have been filled with holidays; the brilliant candles of Hanukkah and the pungent sell of the spruce Christmas tree; the combined sensory experiences of an interfaith household. But, as Dickens noted in The Tale of Two Cities, "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times." Sometime between the eight nights of Hanukkah and Christmas Eve, my father was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma and began chemotherapy two days later.
A hale 78 year old writer, survivor of a triple by pass, my dad had just had his latest book, The Made-Up Self published in last October. Following its publication, it was reviewed in the New York Times and my father was thrilled. I got to thinking about voice and wrote this post which I never published, but came back to since his diagnosis. I offer it here as a tribute to my dad and his love of voice.

Birds 3, Sara Post ©2009

Voice. The singular thing that beckons us into and sustains us in a piece of writing. Voice tells the story, plays on our emotions, evokes our sympathies. What does this in a piece of visual art?

I struck out one night with my sister Amelia to visit the opening of a show at our local cooperative gallery, The Artery, and find out. I was a bit overexposed from a week of presentations at the hospital, so I didn't expect to be seeing clearly.

You know how it is when you've been teaching and lecturing too much and not writing enough? That's how it was. Fatigue doesn't seem to matter for Amelia. Put her in a gallery and she is immediately absorbed by color and form. I flit from one piece to the next searching for something that calls to me--could it be a"voice" I'm looking for?

Since voice must be embodied to be heard, which piece will speak to me? How will I know when I   see it--what will it look like? Will it be clothed in quiet tones of umber, terracotta or ochre? Or, sparkling with brilliant patterns in red, black and gold? I'm on a blind date arranged by the gallery but I think somehow I'll recognize it when I see it.

And I do. The piece is located in a corner of the gallery and is made out of clay. Clay that is rolled thin like cookie dough and cut into irregular tile forms mounted on a birchwood panel and connected with thin lines of grout. On the tiles, in dark indigo, so dark that  its almost black, are intertwining mandalas, circles with interconnecting lines that form the stamens and pistils of plants and reach towards crows who've alighted on these "circles" of plants.

Here is my friend. I stand for a long time, reading the artist's description and wondering how I can scrape together enough money to take my friend home so we can keep talking? Provocative isn't it?  

Fresh Impressions: Part 2

Today's Part 2 focuses on the exhibit, Lessons from Things and the process of working on the still lifes that are part of it.

3.) What makes this exhibit stand out from others that have happened here locally in Davis?

Sara Post has gathered a wonderful group of artists together and given them a traditional subject, namely, familiar objects, and added a twist that is particularly hers, looking at art-making through the lens of another culture.

"In our object-rich culture, there is a tendency to skim over the presence of things, to cease to see them because of the sometimes overwhelming amount of objects in our lives. This exhibit offers an opportunity to slow down, to focus, to be with and perhaps to add to our understanding and enjoyment of objects that surround us," notes “Lessons” curator Sara Post.

Within the structure of the exhibit, she weaves in an educational component, so that the viewer comes away with more than an encounter with the works of art themselves. The unique quality of Sara's lively and provocative themes set her exhibits apart.

4.) What do you hope to gain from the exhibit (in any aspect, whether, spiritually, emotionally, or if more aimed toward the community)?

Lake Okoboji, ©1977, watercolor

The greatest gift so far took place in my studio. In order to create these still lifes, I've been reaching back into my days as a young student and drawing on my youthful enthusiasm. It was a magical time; so much seemed possible and everything was fair game for the canvas: a plein air landscape, the view from my apartment window, pieces of fruit placed on a worn wooden table.

Recycled take out containers for colored papers

As I've re-explored the subject of still life, I've been able to tap into that enthusiasm and ebullience. But there's a twist. I am older and the experience of the life I've lived since that time filters into these  collages as well. I see it in my approach; the willingness to take the objects I've studied "out of the box" and off of the linear plane. I experiment more freely with media and feel  confident in the way that I handle the colors and patterns; letting them come together in a sort of seeming randomness that is actually the result of working with composition for so many years.

The beige take out container has it all

I also look forward to the reception for the exhibit, to those equally random moments when I watch other people study the artwork on the walls and hear their exclamations as they move around the gallery. I love seeing so many people that I know from so many times of life here in Davis. I've never lived anywhere as long as I lived here: 22 years. That creates a rich tapestry of friends and acquaintances and you never know whom you're going to run into or what you might end up talking about. Perhaps I'll meet a new artist friend or even find the thread for a new series of collages.

Fresh Impressions: An Interview in 3 Parts

Lessons From Things, postcard front on the "fridge" gallery

I've been working on a series of still lifes for a group exhibit entitled "Lessons from Things" at the Davis Art Center, in Davis, CA, 
August 2 - September 3.


Last week I was approached by Lea Murillo, a reporter from our University paper The California Aggie. Lea asked me if she could interview me for the exhibit curated by Sara Post.

I embraced the invitation, knowing it was one of those opportunities that Alyson Stanfield, in her book, "I'd Rather Be in the Studio," recommends for those of us who prefer to hang out with our paint, paper and brushes rather than write about them.

I'm reprinting the questions and my replies in the next three posts, because most of the time, I don't get the chance to read what an artist has said as he or she said it--simply because another person, the journalist, is doing the writing.

Lea asked me to answer the questions according to how they apply to me, the exhibit, and the connection between the two. Hence the segue between myself and the exhibit.

 1.) How long have you been an artist and, what does your artistic background consist of?

I've thought of myself as an artist since the age of 21, 33 years ago now. I received a B.A. in Studio Art from the University of Iowa (where I spent most of my time in the weaving studio) and an M.F.A. in Textiles and Sculpture from the California College of the Arts (where I spent much of my time crossing the campus between the Textile and the Sculpture studios).

Tempting Fate, ©2004, multimedia

I've always been interested in the intersection between media so that in both undergraduate and graduate school, I focused on textiles, painting, writing and sculpture.

Throughout my career as an artist, I've tried to blur the lines between the disciplines, or, another way to say it is that I try to find the liminal zone where two or more media come together.


When Sara curates an exhibit at the Davis Art Center, she engages in a similar quest; she becomes interested in a particular area, such as collage, and offers artists an open range for exploration.

In the current exhibit, "Lessons from Things," the title immediately produces a cornucopia of ideas. According to Sara, the title "refers to what was once a part of the French primary school curriculum—the study of things or objects and how they came to be what they are—their history, their evolution, their uses. It is a way of looking deeply into an object and seeing what is there."

That same title takes me back to first grade when I learned that a noun is a person, place or thing. From there, I begin to think about how I want to document some "thing," which leads me to thinking about which "things" in my environment inspire me.

2.) What inspires you?

Baby pomegranate

I spend a lot of time studying the natural world around me: ripening fruits, flowering oleanders, rows of sunflowers, furrows of rice fields off the causeway. 

Oleander on the way to work

                  I also love to study patterns in architecture, quilts and words.
      

Dancing Ring, ©2009, quilt

                   I distill all of these observations into the form of a collage.

Twins, 1 ©2009, collage

I also draw inspiration from my work as an art therapist at the UC Davis Children's Hospital. Much of my recent work (although not in this exhibit) is a response to my involvement with various children and their effects on my life.

More to come tomorrow. I'll be posting about my experience of working on the still lifes.